Chapter 19: - Page 3 of 8

A Schoolmaster’s Difficulties

(English version of “Noli Me Tangere”)

Now let me recount to you even sadder details.  I have wished to introduce reforms and have been laughed at. In order to remedy the evil of which I just spoke to you, I tried to teach Spanish to the children because, in addition to the fact that the government so orders, I thought also that it would be of advantage for everybody.  I used the simplest method of words and phrases without paying any attention to long rules, expecting to teach them grammar when they should understand the language.  At the end of a few weeks some of the brightest were almost able to understand me and could use a few phrases.

The schoolmaster paused and seemed to hesitate, then, as if making a resolution, he went on: I must not be ashamed of the story of my wrongs, for any one in my place would have acted the same as I did.  As I said, it was a good beginning, but a few days afterwards Padre Damaso, who was the curate then, sent for me by the senior sacristan.  Knowing his disposition and fearing to make him wait, I went upstairs at once, saluted him, and wished him good-morning in Spanish.  His only greeting had been to put out his hand for me to kiss, but at this he drew it back and without answering me began to laugh loud and mockingly.  I was very much embarrassed, as the senior sacristan was present.  At the moment I didn’t know just what to say, for the curate continued his laughter and I stood staring at him.  Then I began to get impatient and saw that I was about to do something indiscreet, since to be a good Christian and to preserve one’s dignity are not incompatible.  I was going to put a question to him when suddenly, passing from ridicule to insult, he said sarcastically, ‘So it’s buenos dins, eh? Buenos dias! How nice that you know how to talk Spanish!’ Then again he broke out into laughter.

Ibarra was unable to repress a smile.

You smile, continued the schoolmaster, following Ibarra’s example, but I must confess that at the time I had very little desire to laugh.  I was still standing—I felt the blood rush to my head and lightning seemed to flash through my brain.  The curate I saw far, far away. I advanced to reply to him without knowing just what I was going to say, but the senior sacristan put himself between us.  Padre Damaso arose and said to me in Tagalog: ‘Don’t try to shine in borrowed finery.  Be content to talk your own dialect and don’t spoil Spanish, which isn’t meant for you.  Do you know the teacher Ciruela?[3] Well, Ciruela was a teacher who didn’t know how to read, and he had a school.’  I wanted to detain him, but he went into his bedroom and slammed the door.

[3] A delicate bit of sarcasm is lost in the translation here. The reference to Maestro Ciruela in Spanish is somewhat similar to a mention in English of Mr. Squeers, of Dotheboys Hall fame.—TR.

Learn this Filipino word:

bakulaw